Wayen's Tale
by Alpha of the Deluge
Summary: A new warrior has risen to the task of defending the Triforce of Wisdom from the forces of evil...but not everyone is fond of the boy. Based off the fancomic Zeldanime.


**Figured it's about time I posted these here, rather than just letting them sit on the Zeldanime forums, haha. **

**Zeldanime is a Zelda fancomic created by crazyfreak and Onichild, based off of the much maligned Zelda cartoons from the eighties - and I assure you, it far outshines its source (Read it at: www . zeldanime . com). I loved it so much I felt compelled to create an OC for the tale, and so Wayen was born. Hopefully I'll be able to continue his tale as the comic continues to grow.**

**This fic will often reference the events of Zeldanime, so I highly suggest you get caught up with it before reading. The events of this chapter coincide with those of Zeldanime's Chapter 1.**

* * *

><p>"The princess is fighting another one!"<p>

Footsteps resounded through the halls of North Castle as knights and nobles alike hurried to windows and balconies overlooking the training arena. As they drew close the sound of clashing blades could once more be heard rising up from the battlefield, already distinguishing this new competitor as adept in swordplay - for all their bravado, several fighters had been struck down by the princess in a single stroke.

Nevertheless, there were many different reactions to this.

"A peasant," one of the nobles scoffed, his sentiments repeated by several of his peers' disgruntled comments. Disgust could be found in his verdant clothes, his uncultured approach to the fight, his wild swings...and they capitalized on every opportunity to ridicule this vagabond from afar. Meanwhile, the Hylian Knights gathered around shared a different opinion: all were entranced by the scene, several were making bets on the victor, and a general even turned it into an object lesson for his subordinates. Even King Harkinian left his throne to view the battle, keeping a quiet, watchful gaze over the field.

Then there was a black-robed scholar whose eyes seemed to flash with anger every time he glanced over the rail.

"Something wrong, Wayen?" a guard quipped at him, drawing those dark green eyes towards himself. "Why do you always get so uptight about these fights, anyway? Not like the princess is in any real danger. Look!" he waved towards all the soldiers standing around the arena, ever attentive. "There's Knights all over the place. Anything goes wrong and they'll step in to stop it."

Wayen sent him a sideways glance through slitted eyelids, then turned with a huff and stalked away without a word. The knight shrugged and walked back over to the other soldiers, shaking his head. "I'll never understand that guy."

"He's a magic man, mate," another chuckled, patting the sword on his belt. "Don't even _try_ to understand him." A chorus of laughter rose up among the other soldiers before they turned back to the fight below. Only one person kept his eyes on the door through which Wayen had disappeared.

After a moment, King Harkinian slipped away after him.

* * *

><p>The scholar came to a stop in an empty hallway, one with windows also overlooking the arena. No matter how he tried he couldn't take his eyes off the clashing swords, but unlike most of the onlookers he did not do so out of wonder or excitement. Rage was all he felt at the sight of the princess charging against this wanderer. ...He <em>did<em> have to feel a touch of admiration at the challenger's persistence, yet that somehow only made this more infuriating.

"Is there a problem, Wayen?"

The words echoed along the stone walls, filling the commanding voice with all the more power. Wayen instinctively spun towards the approaching form of King Harkinian, inclining his head in a rigid bow. "Of course not, Your Highness," he replied, forcing a submissive tone. It still came out with an edge, though, and he chided himself for such a display. "I haven't the right to contest your decisions."

A few seconds passed before Harkinian loosed a sigh and walked over to where the scholar stood. "I understand that you fear for her safety," he muttered, gazing out at the sight below, "but -"

"Her _safety_, Highness, has _never_ been in doubt," Wayen snapped before he could stop himself. The anger he felt had been building ever since this ridicule had been announced, and now it finally broke free. "Or so I'd have thought, until this talk of needing a protector suddenly sprang up."

King Harkinian stayed silent for a moment, allowing the scholar to compose himself. "You know well as I that she is not seeking a protector for herself," he finally said, voice low and kind - but the underlying growl could not be missed. "It is for the Triforce of Wisdom."

"Then assign one of _our_ number to this task!" Wayen spun towards him, and as he did lifted a hand over his face. Magic rippled along his fingertips, then shot out over his facial features. The air shimmered for a second before his mask shattered into a million flecks of dust.

By the time his hand returned to his side, the change was obvious. The scholar's skin, though never tan, had significantly paled until it was nearly white. His dark hair, on the other hand, had transformed to a pitch black, so deep that one could hardly separate the dusken strands with their sight. And most importantly of all, shining in the reflection of the setting sun was the replacement for his hazel eyes: a piercing crimson gaze that revealed all.

The Sheikah in disguise stood tall before his king, glaring at the man. "Have we _ever_ failed you, Majesty? Have we once given way against those who would strike down the royal family?" The answer, of course, was a resounding no. "And yet after countless generations of service and protection, the Shadow Folk are to be cast aside so readily. What have we done to deserve such _disgrace_?"

Harkinian met his glare without flinching, standing strong against the insubordination - oh, yes, Wayen had no doubt that he would be punished for this action. Challenging the king in open court would have been enough for banishment from the castle; doing so in private like this would not mitigate the monarch's wrath. By all rights, the only way he could save himself and his position now would be to throw himself at the king's feet and start begging for forgiveness.

But the race of Shadows _never_ begged... Wayen certainly wasn't about to start. If his services were deemed unacceptable then, by the _goddesses_, why shouldn't he be thrown from the castle? He was already outcast enough among the other Sheikah hidden throughout Hyrule; seemed like a waste of effort to try and stay here if he wasn't wanted.

_'Will _that_ be your reply, Majesty?'_ he challenged in his mind. _'Will you too throw me out?'_

The silence continued to deepen, going on so long that even Wayen started feeling uncomfortable –

And then King Harkinian took a deep breath and exhaled it, a weary smile coming to his face. He lifted a hand, clapped the Sheikah on his shoulder with it, turned them both back to the window. "Wayen... Do you believe you could defeat my daughter in combat?"

He tensed up at the very thought. "Not if the contest was of physical blows, no. Lady Impa has trained her far too well." The king turned with an arched eyebrow and a smirk on his lips. Wayen answered his unasked question by raising a hand and calling forth his magic once more - this time taking the form of a collection of electric sparks shooting between his fingertips. "Were I permitted to use magic, however...then yes, I have no doubt I could beat her."

A slow nod. "And how well do you think magic would work against Ganon?"

... He did not respond.

"You place too much faith in your spellcasting, Sheikah - a fatal error against a foe like this. Magic by its very nature is rebellious and volatile; it would be a simple task for him to turn your own power against you. No, it is the strength of steel that shall serve best against the warlock." Wayen grimaced at that. "Your spells and skills will continue to make you an invaluable guardian for Zelda and myself. But he who protects the Triforce shall become the personal enemy of Ganon himself - a task for which we are woefully ill-equipped."

The scholar bowed his head, eyes narrowed and a scowl on his face. Watching the battle below did not help his mood...neither did it help him deny those words. They made a glaring amount of sense, if the stories of Ganon's strength were to be believed - and given that he held the Triforce of Power, it would be foolish to believe otherwise. If anything, they underestimated his might.

And even the best Sheikah used magic to further empower themselves...

He despised the feeling of helplessness which that knowledge generated.

King Harkinian waited a few moments before patting the Sheikah on his back. "No one is prepared for the trials that await. If we are to survive, we must find someone who can successfully stand against Ganon."

"Are you saying that these _brawls_ will locate the next Hero?" Wayen grumbled, recalling the ancient legends of Hyrule's greatest guardians.

"Not necessarily." His Majesty shrugged. "But whoever can defeat Zelda would certainly be a good candidate for the role." With those words serving as an unspoken farewell, the king turned away.

Wayen's eyes saw a new flash of movement down below, and he finally focused his gaze to see what was happening. A figure clothed in blue and white had leapt away from the arena and landed a few feet away... The green-robed swordsman remained on the elevated platform. He stared speechless for a moment, eyes wide with wonder: the boy had won, had defeated Zelda herself.

"Majesty?" he called out to the air, not even looking up to see if Harkinian was still even within earshot. His ears twitched, though, with the sound of scuffling cloths near the hall's end. "That argument...was it the same one Zelda used to convince you?"

There was a moment of silence, and then a low chuckle reached his ears. "One of many, my boy." More rustling cloth as the king turned away again. "One of many..."

Wayen stood there for several seconds more, silently watching the new protector being led away by a few knights. This wanderer, the Hero? He wanted to laugh at the thought, and would have if not for the man's victory - he was certainly the most skilled of any who had come thus far. With a heavy sigh he lifted a hand and rewove the mask of magic over his face, concealing his Sheikah features in exchange for a Hylian's.

One last look was spared at the arena...and then he followed his king.


End file.
